


Special

by nutty_as_a_ten_ton_bag_of_pecans



Category: Total Drama (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Post-Total Drama (Cartoon) Season/Series 07, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Triggers, special - gabbie hanna, total drama group chat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26199637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutty_as_a_ten_ton_bag_of_pecans/pseuds/nutty_as_a_ten_ton_bag_of_pecans
Summary: It's been six long months since Heather and Alejandro decided to end things between them. He hasn't seen her since - it turns out no one has really. It's not long before the total drama cast decides that someone needs to go and check up on her. Alejandro goes and is shocked by what's been going on in the flat that they used to share.Trigger warnings: implied self harm, implied eating disorder, suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt
Relationships: Alejandro Burromuerto/Heather
Kudos: 20





	Special

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever published fanfic and honestly I was hoping it would be happier 😂  
> So to write this fic I went on Spotify, selected a random radio station and used whatever song that came up as a prompt.  
> So this is based off Special by Gabbie Hanna :)

Alejandro frowned as he knocked impatiently on the familiar apartment door. If all went well, she would open it, see him and slam the door so that he could report back to the others that she was alive and well and move on with his life. Unfortunately, fate was never that kind. He had to knock three more times before the door slowly creaked open.

He couldn’t help but let out a small shocked sound before he controlled himself. The too thin woman with red rimmed eyes and mascara dyed tear tracks on her cheeks looked nothing like the vivacious teenager he had fallen in love with so long ago. She stared blankly at him for a moment probably waiting for him to speak and when he didn’t, she raised a frail arm and went to push the door shut.

“Wait!”, He called blocking the door from closing with his body, “Can I come in for a moment?” He asked honestly not sure about what he’d do if she said no but to his relief she nodded slowly.

“Umm, yeah sure I guess.” Even her voice sounded different from the last time he had heard it when they had been hurling insults and vases at each other in the flat they had shared. Then it had been bright and youthful, passionate would probably be a better word but now it sounded croaky, as if it had been screamed hoarse.

She slowly pulled the door open far enough for him to step in and he got his first good look at her. Her collarbones poked dangerously out of the oversized black sweatshirt that had definitely fit her properly when they had been together and saw how brightly her pale skin stood out against it. Most concerningly though he saw the orange bottle resting in her other hand. She had never been on any medication before, so he quickly deduced that her dishevelled appearance was a result of some kind of health issue.

She moved out of the doorframe and directed him to the sofa while she sat on an armchair and seemed to curl in on herself making her already tiny frame seem smaller somehow. She subtly nudged the orange bottle behind a cushion clearly hoping he hadn’t noticed it yet and he was kind enough to not shatter that illusion.

“So, what are you doing here?” She questioned awkwardly her gaze firmly locked on her twitching fingers.

“You haven’t been on the group chat for a while.”

“No, I guess I haven’t.” She replied

“No one’s seen you in months Heather. There hasn’t even been a press sighting of you in weeks. I- they were worried.” He wasn’t lying, even though he was here on his castmates (mostly Bridgette’s) request he couldn’t lie and say that he hadn’t been concerned, she was usually all over the tabloids but there had just been nothing recently.

“They shouldn’t be. Can’t you see that I’m fine.” She laughed; the sound so bitter he physically recoiled.

As he repositioned himself and looked for a different way to approach the conversation, they clearly needed to have his gaze drifted around the room. Everywhere he looked he noticed something that made the pit in his stomach that had appeared when he first saw heather grow bigger and blacker.

The half empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s lying at the base of the sofa. The cast photo from her first season that used to sit on her bookshelf was face down on the floor, the shattered glass from the frame scattered around it. The empty carton of cigarettes on the counter next to a couple of empty beer bottles, one of them broken. Printed copies of articles slandering her were sitting, watermarked on the coffee table.

“May I use the restroom?” He questioned, just wanting a moment to clear his head. She nodded in response and he jumped up and took the familiar route to the bathroom trying desperately not to let happy memories of their lives in this flat overtake him. As soon as he closed the door behind him, he buried his face in his hands. It was the first time he had seen her since the breakup, and she looked like he felt in the weeks immediately after. While the split had been brutal on both of them, he could admit he had come out slightly better managing to keep most of their friends. She had also suffered through countless cruel articles attacking her since as soon as it was made public the press collectively decided to support Alejandro.

After taking a number of deep breaths he made his way over to the sink to splash some cool water in his face before going out to face Heather again. His hand reached out to turn the tap on when a bright red spot caught his eye, contrasting brightly against the white porcelain of the basin. Upon closer inspection he was pretty certain it was blood, information that he wasn’t quite sure what to do with. In disgust he turned away from the sink and was greeted by the sight of hundreds of little pills spilled onto the floor with an upturned orange bottle resting ominously on the grey tiles. 

He froze his brain refusing to put together the clues he had noticed since he stepped foot into the apartment, before making a split-second decision to root through the bathroom cabinet. He stared in abject horror at the contents, a number of bloodied, rusty razor blades and yet another orange bottle, this one labelled as being for antidepressants.

His brain was lagging behind his body as he pushed open the bathroom door and made his way back to Heather still picturing the scene from the bathroom.

“Heather what the hell’s going on?” He tried to bring his voice down from a shout without much success he noted when she flinched away from him.

“I saw the pills and the bottles and the razors.” His voice died down to a whisper and he had to blink a few times to force away the mistiness gathering in his eyes.

“Shit.” She replied softly.

“Is that all you’ve got to say?” He was back to shouting.

“What do you want me to say,” She shouted back, showing the first real spark of emotion he had seen from her, “That my life’s gone to hell? That I joined that stupid TV show because I thought I was special when I was fifteen, that I thought that everyone would see that I could be special. I don’t know why I thought I could be someone, I’m no one. It’s ruined my life.” There were new tear tracks overlapping with the old ones and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“I thought you were special. I always thought you were special.” He breathed out.

“Yeah and then you realised you were wrong. That’s why you left.”

“No, I-” He barely got a syllable out before she was continuing.

“And you know what you took everything with you when you left. The total drama guys were my only friends, they were the only ones who didn’t read the articles. The only ones who got it. But you got them, you got my friends and I was okay with that. I guess I deserved that.”

Her words were slowly turning from composed sentences to choked sobs. He wanted to interrupt to tell her that she was wrong but still he could do nothing but stare at the love of his life break down like he had never seen before.

“But then the articles came out. They said I cheated on you. They said I was a drug addict. They showed pictures of me stumbling home drunk from nightclubs – half of them I wasn’t even at they were old pictures, but they don’t care about that. My family saw them. I haven’t spoken to any of them in four months.” She screamed, breaking down into tears again before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her phone and opening her social media accounts and throwing it at him.

“And on top of that every single day I got hundreds of thousands of comments telling me that I was fat, that I was a whore, that you were too good for me anyway and telling me everyone would be happier if I just killed myself.”

He was frozen in place staring intently at her preying that this conversation wasn’t heading in the direction that he thought it was his mind forcing the image of the spilt pills to the forefront of his mind. He wished that every time he’d picked up the phone wanting to call her, he hadn’t put it back down again. He wished he hadn’t blocked her social media accounts; he hadn’t even known how much hate she was receiving. No wonder Bridgette seemed so worried about not seeing her recently. He was dragged out of his thoughts by her continuing her rant.

“So, I finally figured out how to make everyone happy, how to make them like me.” Her lips twisted into a tragic smile as she reached behind the pillow to pull out the bottle she had hidden earlier. 

“It takes 34 of these pills to kill you. There were 100 in here. I had twelve before you arrived. I only have 22 left.” Her smile softened to look somewhat peaceful showing a trace of her former beauty. She reached to unscrew the lid of the bottle.

Finally, he couldn’t help himself he moved from the spot on her rug and surged forward, snatching the bottle from her hand and tucking it firmly into his pocket ignoring her betrayed look. Then he settled next to her on the armchair, close enough that their sides were pressed together bringing back a familiar spark Alejandro hadn’t experienced in six long months. Initially she leant away from him but eventually he noticed her leaning into the contact. They stayed there in silence for what felt like an eternity, the only sound the gentle sobs and sniffs coming from Heather.

“It might feel like our friends chose me, but they didn’t, you didn’t give them the chance to choose you because you were scared that they wouldn’t. You cut them off – not the other way around. Look.” He passed her his phone, the total drama cast group chat still open. She read through their messages of concern for her, even people she didn’t expect like Gwen and LeShawna had voiced at least a little concern. New messages popping up every minute, mostly asking Alejandro whether he’d spoken to her yet.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as she passed his phone back to him silently. “I’m so, so sorry. I should have been here.” He turned to face her and ended up burying his nose in her dark hair. He had always loved her hair; it was such a strikingly dark colour and it suited her well. While it no longer smelled like the watermelon shampoo, she had used when they would sit on this same armchair, entangled in each other’s limbs watching TV it felt like it had then – comforting.

She turned her vulnerable eyes meeting his for the first time since he had been in the apartment.

“It hurts.” She sounded like a small child as she buried her face into his chest.

“I know it does cielo, I know.” He murmured, unconsciously using the pet name as he reached his arm over her shoulder and tugged her closer.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed there, him desperately wishing he knew what she was thinking while she softly cried into his shirt. He knew one thing for certain, he would not be leaving the apartment until he was certain she had faith that she was special again. It would not happen quickly, and he was sure that there would be countless bad days to come – but at least, he vowed to himself, he would be there for them.


End file.
